Home
by DCWash
Summary: Allan's getting his new place going, but finds he needs more help than he expected. He gets it, from a most unexpected party.


**Title:** Home

**Author:** DCWash

**Characters:** Allan, Annie, Seth

**Rating:** PG-13. (Discussion of prostitution, but nothing graphic.)

**Disclaimer:** Characters belong to history and the BBC more than to me.

**Summary:** A sequel, or part 2, of my last ("I've Picked Up a Thing or Two") where Allan's getting his tavern started--but this story stands on its own as well. It's set about a month or two after that one, and five years after series one.

**Length:** Shorter than the last one by about a thousand words--5602 words.

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He had in his hand two shillings, eight pence. That was what was left this market day: two shillings, eight pence.

_And that's alright._

Allan had to tell himself these things sometimes.

Because it wasn't all he had left in the world—it was all he had left _today_. For once, Allan had estimated how much he needed to spend and took that with him to the market in Nottingham instead taking his whole purse. He had found some deals, made some good bargains, and now he had two shillings, eight pence left over.

Having money left over was a new situation for him to be in, and he wasn't sure what to make of it. It seemed that all he known until recently was feast or famine, and he spent his time either sleeping or in an adrenaline-fueled fight-or-flight response. This new in-between life he was trying to live was taking some getting used to. The old panic would still rear up at the unlikeliest times. Like now, when he had money in his hand that didn't have to go towards his immediate survival.

_I should go straight home and put it back in the pot, I suppose._

His heart sank at the thought. He had been working so hard and the idea was just so… _dreary_.

_Or I could have some fun. _

That was more like it. He couldn't remember the last time he had had fun the way he used to. Weeks ago, definitely. Probably months.

_Yeah, and the last time you tried, you got your head caved in_. _Don't forget that, old son._

He tried to shake off the idea of fun, and with it the idea of women, but now it was rattling around in his head.

_How about a compromise? How about something you wouldn't do back in Locksley, but that's safer than fun? Maybe a trip to the barber. _Allan knew he looked a little shabby. There was a rip in the sleeve of his jacket and he kept having to brush his hair out of his eyes.

His stomach growled, and that made the decision for him. _A hot meal. A proper lunch. No harm in that. Food alone can't get you in trouble. _He knew it would cost a lot less than two and eight, but he'd think about that—and about fun and its costs—after he ate.

He looked around. Once he eliminated the taverns that had banned him, and eliminated the ones that hadn't outright banned him but probably weren't too safe for him anyway, there wasn't a whole lot left. He had heard talk of a rather disreputable place around the corner, and thought he'd give it a try.

It didn't take him long to see why it was disreputable. The landlord ignored Allan while he continued his conversation with an over-aged dyer's assistant at the other end of the bar, giving Allan a chance to look around. He knew going in that it would be a dark and dank and low place, but he was well over the threshold before the smell of stale beer and old mutton really sank in. That, and smoke. He saw a ladder to the left of the door that disappeared into what appeared to be a loft—obviously just boards laid down over the beams—that kept the hearth smoke from dissipating through the roof in the normal way. A woman with her back to him was sweeping. He knew the type and had some sympathy: a servant who was fighting against becoming a whore by desexing herself with the coarsest and most shapeless dress she could find, wearing it almost as armor against randy customers. Though he was surprised at how few customers there were on a market day, even considering it was between the normal lunch and dinner times.

The barman finally came to Allan, with a mistrustful look in his eye. _Really knows how to spread a warm welcome, this one. _Allan nodded to the ladder and asked, "Anything on upstairs?" He hadn't even consciously thought about sex; the words just came out, almost as a reflex.

"_We-el_, they're all asleep right now. Getting some rest before the market closes and all the farmers turn loose on the town." He gave Allan a good look-over, trying to gauge how much money he had to spend. "I can wake one up if you want. Might cost you extra."

"Nah, let 'em sleep." Which was a tactful way of saying he wanted a better woman than two and eight would buy. "What I really need is some food. D'ya have anything hot?" he asked over his shoulder as he took his mug to a table.

"Oi! You there! Get the man some stew!"

While "You There" served it up, Allan sipped his beer. He was surprised at how good it was. No, it wasn't the best he had ever had, but it was better than it had a right to be, given his surroundings. It put him in a better mood, good enough that he tried to catch the drudge's eye as she served him, and give her a smile just for general purposes. He wasn't having much luck making eye contact through the gloom, or of even getting a good look at her. Which made the shock of recognition that much greater when she bent over his table to put the trencher in front of him.

"Annie? _Annie!_ What…why…_What the hell are YOU doing here?_"

She abruptly turned away but not before Allan grabbed her wrist. Annie tugged, but only halfheartedly, and it was obvious she was more embarrassed than afraid.

"No, wait! I…I thought you were going to…."

"Oi! You want the girl, you gotta to pay for her!"

"Look, I only want to talk to her!"

"I don't care what you want to do to her! Time with the girls isn't free! I'm tellin' ya—you want her? Then get your money out."

Annie was tugging, the landlord was shouting, and the other customers were starting to pay attention, some murmuring in ominous tones. Nobody seemed particularly care about Annie's safety; they were more upset at the idea of this stranger breaking the house rules.

Still holding Annie's wrist, Allan assessed the situation and realized there was no way this was going to end well.

"How much?"

"What do you mean?"

"The girl. What do you charge?"

Now Annie was mad enough to try to pull away from Allan in earnest. Allan was having none of it, and held firm.

"That one? Ten pence a go." _A feeble price_, Allan thought, but it was obvious that the landlord was making this up as he went along, trying to assess how much a man like Allan would think a skinny, used-up servant was worth.

"Good enough." And with that Allan started to hustle her towards the door, passing the ladder to the loft.

"Oi! What do you think you're doing?"

"Havin' a go!" Allan yelled as he crossed the threshold. (Annie still didn't seem too enamored with the idea.)

"You're paying for that stew, too!"

Allan threw a shilling through the door before he slammed it shut behind him.

He dropped Annie's wrist while the sound of the slam was still reverberating. He looked around, shaking his head, amazed at what he had just done.

"Good God! What _is_ it with me and tavern girls? It's like I'm on some loony rescue quest…! And _you_! Every time I see you I wind up rescuing _you_! What were you doing in that….'

"'_Rescuing_?' Ha! I don't suppose it ever occurred to you to ask whether we want to be rescued or not! _Nooooo_! Of course not! Who are you to…."

"I just wanted to talk!"

Their words started jumbling together, one accusatory voice on top of the other: "What were you doing in that piss hole anyway?" "My job, that's what I was doing!" "You don't have to live like that!" "Oh, Sir Galahad, telling me what to do!" Etc.

They were spent pretty quickly, finally winding up eyeing each other in silence, Annie drawn up straight with pursed lips, narrowed eyes, and a hand on her hip; Allan bent over with his hands on his knees as if to catch his breath, warily looking up at Annie in case she started in again. _Or pulls a knife on me like she did with Gis._

Not knowing what else to say, Allan asked, "So. You eaten yet?"

Annie shook her head.

"No, of course not. He makes you pay for your food out of your wages, doesn't he?"

Annie just looked at the ground, like she did inside the tavern. Allan was already learning that she did that when she was embarrassed or ashamed.

He sighed. "C'mon. Let's see what we can grub up." He still had a shilling and eight pence, more than they needed to pay for a basic lunch. They worked their way to the market in silence. Allan bought a loaf of bread and a small cheese and a flagon of wine and finally settled on the steps of a church as the only place they could sit and eat.

Once Annie had spread her kerchief on the stone between them to serve as a platter ("It's clean. I just washed it last night") they found small talk rather difficult. After all, what do two people say to each other when their whole relationship—if you could even call it that—was based on one person saving the other's life?

"So. How's the boy?"

"Seth? Oh, he's fine."

"I didn't see him at the tavern. I guess he's out...playing…or…..something?" What Allan knew about children could fit into a dram glass.

"He's with my sister. At Mistress Beaumont's house."

"Yeah, about that! I thought you said—when you two were at my place—that your sister was going to get you work there? What happened?"

If Allan had thought about it, he would have realized he was straying into dangerous territory. If Annie was working in a "piss hole," and separated from her son—if she had fallen that low--why in the world would she want to talk to a near-stranger like Allan about it? She used the excuse of chewing on some more bread and cheese to gather her thoughts. Allan just assumed she was ravenously hungry (she was, but that's beside the point) and kept looking at her as he waited for her to finish and give him an answer. Eventually she couldn't put it off anymore.

"I said I _hoped _she could get me work where she lived. She couldn't." Trying to change the subject, she added, "And how's your tavern? Coming along, is it? Doing good business?"

"Well, the beer's better, thanks to you. That beer today…did you have a hand in making it?"

She nodded. Again with the silence between them. Allan kept a steady gaze on her. She was looking brighter now that she had some food and wine in her, but still, she seemed so…beaten down. It didn't make sense. Allan didn't know Annie well, but from what he had seen, she was one tough cookie: Tough enough to take on Sir Guy of Gisbourn when she found out how he had endangered their infant son. Tough enough to work in the castle in the first place, which Allan knew firsthand wasn't for the faint of heart, even in the kitchen, far away from the intrigue. What had happened? It was none of his business, he knew, but he couldn't let it go.

"So Mistress Beaumont didn't have work for you. What about the castle? Did you try there?"

Annie closed her eyes and sighed. On the one hand, she really didn't want to go into this. On the other hand, she was longing for simple conversation, to tell her story to somebody who might offer up some sympathy. She didn't know why, but she trusted Allan. Not all the way, maybe, but enough to think he wouldn't out-and-out mock her like the girls in the tavern did.

"Yes, I tried the castle. I'm not stupid. But it's all new people there now. The Sheriff's dead. Guy's dead. One look at me and the new people saw them instead of an experienced kitchen maid."

She paused and swallowed hard. Allan noticed she was staring straight at her feet now. _Not a good sign._ But he didn't interrupt.

"So I started to go from house to house in Mistress Beaumont's neighborhood. But since Lady Glasson was dead, I didn't have a reference. And besides…" Another sigh. "…my reputation seemed to have preceded me.

"What reputation? What do you mean?"

"As Gisbourne's Whore." She fairly whispered the words.

Allan was so angry he wanted to yell a stream of curses to the street. _The man's dead and he's still ruining lives!_ Instead, he bit his lip and let her continue.

"'Course, it didn't help that Seth's turning into the spitting image of him. There I was, knocking on kitchen doors in the rain, with a miniature Guy under my arm! Some folks felt sorry for us and gave us food or a few pennies, but they didn't want to take me in in case people thought they were Gisbourne's allies. They didn't think it was safe."

By now she wasn't on the church steps with Allan, on a warm and sunny day. She was someplace else. She wasn't even wiping off the tears that had started trickling down her face.

"It was no life for a little boy, but what was I supposed to do?"

"Sleeping rough?" She nodded. "In the moat, under the bridge?" She nodded again, this time closing her eyes and pressing her lips together to repress a sob.

"And then Seth got sick...and he needed medicine…and it was expensive…and I didn't have the money…."

"And you went on the game."

Annie was ashamed to have Allan look at her, and turned away. Without realizing it—without either of them noticing, really—he put his hand on hers and said, simply and straightforwardly, "Annie, there's no shame in it. We've all been there, where you have to sell the only thing you own just to keep body and soul together."

Something about his tone…. She looked him in the face for the first time since she started telling her story. He really _did_ understand. He really _had_ been there. And he really _didn't_ see the shame in it, though he really did know how squalid it was, and why she might hate it. She was still crying—more than before, even—but she had a little more courage. Enough to say, "Well, I didn't do it much. And," she added wryly after a sniff, "I got more than ten pence for it."

Allan was taken aback enough that he almost laughed. Luckily for him she was hugging her knees and looking back at her feet by then and didn't see the smile he couldn't suppress.

"And Seth?"

"Well, I don't know what she said, but when he was recovering, my sister talked Mistress Beaumont into letting him come live with her. But," (and now the sobs came out) "…he …he's got to earn his keep. And he's just a little boy!"

"You're joking! He's…what?...five years old? And she's got him _working_ already?"

Annie nodded. "To be fair, I think she just has him doing some chores so she doesn't look soft, like she's being taken advantage of. He fetches kindling, and scares the crows out of the garden…that kind of thing. But…"

"But he's not with you."

"No. Henry—he's the landlord at the tavern—would only let me stay over there if I whored for him like the other girls, and I'd rather we were back under the bridge than have Seth see me like that."

"Doesn't stop Henry from smacking you around anyway, though, does it?"

"What?"

"That bruise under your eye. It's old, but you can still see it."

This time it was Annie's turn to smile, if a little grimly. "Oh, he didn't do that! No, even I have my limits. I walked into a door." It was obvious Allan didn't believe her. "Honest! I did! I sleep in the cellar of the candlemaker's near Seth. I get off work late at night, it's dark…" She shrugged. "I walked into a door.

But that's why Seth doesn't live with me. I can't look after him and work at the same time. So I'm trying to save up some money for somebody to keep him while I work." She swallowed hard again, but the crying had stopped. She stood up.

"And now I'd better get back or I'll lose what little job I have. I don't know how long Henry thinks 'a go' lasts, but I bet we're past it."

"…No." It was Allan's turn to stare at the ground.

"Huh?"

"….Don't go back there….Come work for me." Allan was thinking on his feet, as it were.

"_What?_" (_The man's insane!)_

"Look, Annie, I'm not being funny! You asked how my tavern's coming along. Well, it's not coming along, at all, but it's not from lack of trying. It's just…it's all so much work! More than one person can do. I mean, look at me!" He flicked the rip in his jacket. "I know how to stitch up something like that, but by the time I'm finished with the woodlot and the garden, not to mention the beer, the light's gone and I can't see to fix it. And see how much bread and cheese I've eaten? None, that's how much. That's because if I look at one more piece of cheese…. I'm not much of a cook but I can throw some things into a pot and heat it up and call it soup, but it takes so long for the fire to do its work that I'm asleep before it's cooked. And then there's….." Allan looked at her helplessly. "I need you, Annie. I need your help."

Annie was so astonished all she could do was blink. But Allan was on a roll. If Annie had a tendency to look down when she was ashamed, Allan had a tendency to look down when he was thinking. So he couldn't tell what was on her mind.

"I can't promise much in the way of pay, at least not yet, but it's room and board, and I'll give you a share of the profits when they start coming in." _IF they start coming in. _"You can be in charge of the beer and the food, I guess. My beer's drinkable now, but it's still not good enough to make people go out of their way to buy it from me instead of brewing their own, and I'm stuck trying to figure out how to make it better. And you'll need to be nice to the customers, of course…"

"'Be nice to the customers!' How's this going to be any better than what I'm doing now?"

"Oh! I mean, just: be nice to the customers. That's all. Not…you know. Like, laugh at their jokes when they aren't that funny. Smile when they're not funny at all. Act like you're glad to see them when they come in even if your feet hurt. Be…nice. Besides, Robin says I can't run whores, even if I wanted to."

"That won't stop people from thinking it."

"What do you mean?"

"Look, I'm trying to get my reputation back. And here I'd be, moving in with an unmarried man and working in his tavern."

"What, you think your reputation could get _worse_? Besides, unmarried men have maids all the time. You know that."

"Yeah, and I also know what a lot of those 'maids' really do to earn their keep." _Of course, I could actually room someplace else…. No! This is mad! _

Allan really wouldn't mind the arrangement with a live-in maid that she was hinting at, especially if Annie was that maid, but he had to face facts and admit that he needed her skills in the kitchen more than he needed her skills in the bedroom, and he didn't want to scare her off. Still, he didn't want to close any doors, either.

He said (rather reluctantly), "Alright. I'll let you set the rules for that. I'll go along with whatever you decide. If it makes a difference, I finished up those stalls you saw when you were there before so that they're rooms now. There'll be a proper wall between us." _If that's what you really want. _"Look, Annie. As far as I'm concerned, it's all business."

"All business? And sharing the profits? Like a partnership?" Annie had never heard of a man and a woman entering into a relationship like this before and it had her all confused. It just didn't seem right, but she couldn't really come up with a reason for it not to work. In exasperation, she threw up her hands. "I barely _know_ you!"

"Yeah, and you didn't know old Henry at all before you went to work for him, and look at how _that's _turned out. You know I saved your son's life when I found him in the forest. You know I kicked Gisbourne in the face when he tried to run you through with a sword." _We'll forget you tried to cut his throat first, shall we?_ "And that I risked my life to get you away from the castle. And that I took you in and gave you and Seth shelter on a stormy night—_unmolested_ shelter, I might add. And now I'm trying to give you a chance at a better life. Not being funny, but I think that's a pretty good record, considering."

_He's got a point._ _And Seth….I'll bet the monks at the abbey will take him in. That was more or less the plan from the start, wasn't it? Maybe not as fine a place as Guy talked about, but still somewhere where he'll be taken care of. And he might even get an education, more than he'd get it he stayed with me…._

She had run out of arguments. She nodded. "I need some time to see to Seth."

"Fine! How long?" Allan himself still had a few things to take care of while he was in town.

"Oh, a few days. Let's say I meet you in a week?"

"It takes a _week_ to get a lad like that packed up and ready to go?"

"Wait. You mean he can come with me?"

"Of course! Why wouldn't he?" Allan was baffled. He may not know how old babies were when they cut their teeth or when kids could be trusted to be home alone for a few hours, but he got along with them well enough when he ran across them. Well enough not to want to separate a five-year-old from his mother, that's for sure.

Annie was baffled, too. Every place she had worked since Seth was born had made it difficult for them to be together. Guy said he was taking the baby to the abbey orphanage, and the general consensus in the castle was that this was best for all involved. Of course, that's not what he wound up doing, but in principal, it was supposed to be good for Seth in the long run. Then when she got to Lady Glasson's, she had to farm him out to a wet nurse when he was a baby so she could do her work. And now here in Nottingham, she couldn't live with him, though at least she saw him frequently. She assumed Allan would be of the same mindset as everybody else she had worked for. But now Seth could come, too? That settled it. "Well...it's worth a try!" It was the brightest she had sounded all day.

She went back to collect Seth and their few things. Allan went off to collect his purchases and load them up on the horse. They all—Allan, Annie, Seth, and the horse—met back at the church steps a short time later.

It made the most sense for wee Seth to ride while Annie and Allan walked. The horse wasn't overburdened in terms of weight, but the packages and bags were bulky and it took some adjustment to make room for the boy. The horse turned his head and give Allan a look of, "You've GOT to be kidding me!" as Allan lifted Seth on board, making Annie actually giggle.

Seth had, of course, seen plenty of horses in his life and had always wanted to ride, but now that he was high up on top of a horse's back, he wasn't so sure. He was grinning, but Allan could sense the uneasiness under the excitement. "Look, mate, just grab onto the mane there and you'll be fine—tight as you want, don't worry about hurting him. I'll be over here to catch you and your mum will be over there and we'll go slow, so you don't have to worry about falling. Alright?"

And with that they were off. Seth gasped when the horse took his first jolting step but Allan put his hand on his thigh, more to reassure him than to actually protect him, since with a sack of barley on one side and a crate of chickens on the other, he wasn't going to be going anywhere. Even with the late start, and with going slow, they should be there well before dark, which was all that mattered.

Before long, Seth's apprehension faded away and pure joy over actually riding a horse took over, but by the time they approached the tavern, even that feeling was fading away to boredom and restlessness. Annie took him off and let him run up ahead of them while Allan pointed out what was his land and what was Robin's. It had been so dark and the weather was so miserable when she arrived at Allan's tavern the first time, she hadn't noticed the land around it much. It was less neglected than she had imagined: the garden was sort of rough-hewn, but green shoots were beginning to poke up, and the undergrowth in the coppice had been cleared out. Fresh boards and wattling were on some of the outbuildings, suggesting they had been repaired recently. Allan really _had_ been working, like he said, though there was still lots of room for improvement.

Allan opened the door with some trepidation: he wanted to make a good impression, but, after all, he hadn't planned on bringing people back with him when he left early that morning. That said, though Allan had many faults, slovenliness had never been one of them, so Annie was greeted with a pretty trim looking place. There were more stools than there were when she was there before, and even a table. And the animal stalls had indeed been turned into rooms like Allan said—they weren't much bigger than cupboards, and the walls weren't much more than the wattling that had been there before, daubed up. But they ran all the way up to the ceiling now, and there was a real door on each one, so they were indeed "proper walls," even if they were rather flimsy.

"Well, here it is," he said, with a vague gesture and a false grin. "Make yourself at home. Um…everything's pretty much where it was the last time you were here. If you want to fix some supper…oh, wait!"

He turned to get something off the horse. Seth used the opportunity to dash inside and cry out, "My stool! Look, Mummy, it's the stool I made with that man!" And sure enough, the "little-boy stool" Will had made was still there. Allan came back and said, "Hey, you never know who might show up. It seemed better to keep it than to use it for firewood."

He handed Annie a small, greasy bundle. "Here. For supper." He hastened to add, "Now don't expect that kind of thing every night, but I thought we might have a kind of celebration dinner. I mean, if you want."

"Sausages!" Annie was well pleased. She loved sausages and hadn't had any for ages.

"So. Have at it! I've got to unload and put up the horse."

"Can I help?" Seth piped up. Allan couldn't imagine what help a five-year-old could provide, but said, "Sure, mate!" Annie could hear him prattling along as she surveyed the house and considered where to start. ("Hey, Allan! Can I sleep in the hayloft instead of inside? Huh? Can I? That's where Tommy the Stableboy sleeps at Mistress Beaumont's, and…." "Well, not tonight. Maybe some other time. We'll have to ask your mum….")

By the time they came back, both bearing armful's of straw for bedding, supper was about done. Annie had found a pot and a griddle ("Yeah, when the gang broke up, we divided up the stuff from the camp, and that's what I got") and between the split peas she had also found, and the sausages, and the bread from the market, and the now-drinkable beer, it made for the nicest meal the adults, at least, had had in many a day. While they ate, Allan and Annie set about deciding who would do what under this new arrangement. Annie knew nothing about coppicing and charcoal, so that would obviously be Allan's job. The kitchen would be her domain. They decided they'd both work on the beer—Annie had the skill, but she thought making boiling batches big enough for a tavern was really a two-person job, and besides, Allan wanted to learn more about what went into it proper brewing. They would play everything else by ear. And though there weren't in total agreement about every issue—voices were actually raised a bit over the merits of letting chickens run loose and eating everything in sight, therefore producing tastier eggs, vs. penning them up to protect them from predators—both of them felt better and better as the conversation went on. Allan's shoulders began to visibly relax, like a weight was literally falling off them, as they parceled out the work.

And he talked. _Lord, this man prattles more than Seth!_ Annie thought. He talked about his plans for the place, he bragged about his adventures, he flirted a little bit…he just went on and on, even after he and Annie had taken their stools out to enjoy the last of the day's sun. The truth was, Allan was lonesome, even though he didn't realize it. He had gotten used to constant companionship with the gang, and the loss of that was really the ultimate reason why he came back after straying to Guy's service. Oh, he was still close friends with everybody, and they all lived near at hand, but every one of them had their own homes and their own lives to lead now. He could wander over the rise to Locksley and knock on any door and be welcomed in for a bit of chat, but that's different from a monosyllabic conversation with people you had worked with all day, or ragging on a mate because of some comment he let loose by accident. And waking up, alone, in a house was far different from waking up in the middle of the night in a forest, only to hear somebody snoring from across the camp, reassuring you that you weren't in this thing all by yourself.

After a while, he wound down, while Annie took advantage of the light to do a bit of needlework. He watched Seth run hither and yon, stopping occasionally to poke at a bug, or turn over a rock. Nottingham was a cramped town, and the boy was thrilled with the chance to break loose and explore. As he disappeared behind the corner of the house, Allan said, "I'll have to take you two out tomorrow and really show you the place—where the spring is, the garden…. Maybe we can lay down some ground rules for the lad, like he has to stay away from the river or something." His eyes were half closed as he tilted his stool back and leaned against the wall of the house. _After all, what's the worst that can happen? That she changes her mind and goes back to Nottingham, and I'm no worse off than before….And the best than can happen?_ But Allan, as was his wont, was asleep before he arrived at an answer to that.

"That's a good idea," Annie said, but when she looked over, she saw Allan's eyes were closed…and that he had a faint smile on his lips.

Suddenly there was a squawk and an, "Ouch!" and Annie called out, "Seth, stop bothering the chickens!" Instead of answering, he trotted over for a kiss on his boo-boo.

"Mum! Mum! Mum….."

"Shh! Not so loud! Allan is sleeping. Now, what do you want?"

"Mum," (but he whispered almost as loudly has he had originally cried out) "Can I sleep in the hay loft tonight? Allan said I could."

"I don't think that's quite what he said." She could tell Seth was fading almost as fast as Allan had.

"….Mum, what're you doing?"

"I'm mending Allan's jacket."

A longer pause, and Seth rested his head in his mother's lap. She took the opportunity to look around. _This really is a lovely spot._

"Mum….when we go home….can we wait until late to go home? Allan said I can help him feed the horse and the chickens tomorrow."

"You know what Seth?" Annie stroked his black hair. "I think we _are_ home."


End file.
